The Oracle's Travels: Dhudgrir Volume I
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This diary is property of The Oracle.
She lives in Morve-Allanar Dhudgrir Oracester Khimdale Pudridge Encepolis Druxton Coushire Edophia Memoril Briaxsall Fucpool Wriphia New Zephys Galmor Phandalin Neverwinter

I hope you enjoy her tale.

Dear diary,
Today is the day I've bought you. The purpose I have landed upon for you, is to act as a catalog of my travels across Toril. I will have to backpedal a little bit to document the full extent of my journeys, but hopefully this should be a viable method to prevent myself from forgetting things. I am already missing a significant chunk of my memory. It comes back to me in bits and pieces, every now and again, but has yet to make sense.

As far as the extent of my sensible memory goes, I was born at the age of sixty. Obviously, this is not true, since no one is born already such an advanced age. This is merely a result of me being unable to remember anything before then.

When my life as I know it now began, I knew nothing of who I was or where I was. I chose the name "The Oracle," because it came to me in a dream. As the gaps in my memory would begin to fill later, I learned that this is because whoever I was before, I had dabbled into the art of divining the future, and had called myself "The Oracle" as a bit of a stage name. This persona was all that I could remember of myself.

I found myself with a large sum of money, unsure of where I had acquired it, and as I traveled idly and rested, my memory filled in more until I was able to remember that I had once been a slave. My parents too were slaves, and in fact were still under the control of my slaveholders. The mental arithmetic is not difficult to perform, so to make a long story short, I liberated myself and my parents.

Dear diary,
Continuing my story from yesterday. Apologies, I had to cut it short. Regardless,

Afterwards, we lived together happily for oh… about a decade. My parents quickly became aware of the fact that something was wrong with me, and I noticed it to. Every now and again, their mouths would move and I would hear nothing, or I would hear something and then quickly forget it. Apparently, they had been trying to address me by name. My real name.

I had informed them that my name was The Oracle, and they became enraged. Apparently, in drow culture — the one I come from, as it were — changing your name is considered a sacred act that signified one's progression to adulthood. However, I knew I had not changed my name. I just didn't know any other. I told my parents this, and they came to the conclusion that someone else must have given me this name.

I don't remember anything else after that for a while.

My life began again at the age of 70. Where has the past decade gone? I do not know. I found myself traveling the Underdark aimlessly for months, but I quickly grew bored of the stagnant scenery and the same hostility I found everywhere I went. So, I migrated to the surface, where I reside now.

I emerged in a foreign continent, which I learned was called Zakhara. I found myself a settlement of funny little dragonlike and furry creatures, who I believe are called kobolds and gnolls. I purchased this diary from them, and it is now that I find myself wrapping up the beginning of my tale.

Dear diary,
It has been some time since I've written you. Not much interesting has happened since I first purchased you, until now of course.

The locals have informed me that I have been sleepwalking and muttering something to myself. When I asked them to repeat whatever I was saying, their words fell flat on my ears like empty air. Apparently, this is the effect that it seems to have when I attempt to recall something that I cannot remember. I do not know why I am not allowed to remember.

It frustrates me. What was I saying? What could stress me enough that in my sleep I would arise and mutter about something that I am not allowed to remember?

Dear diary,
I don't know where he is. I'm looking for someone, but I have no idea who. I can't recall his face, his name. I don't know who he was to me, or why I am looking for him. But I feel like wherever he is, he has to be close. I feel like, whoever he is, he has to be very important to me.

And yet, every time I look, I find myself turned around. Wandering back the way I came in a daze.

Is he close by? Why am I not allowed to see him? Has he seen me? I wonder what he could be feeling. If I am struggling from such memory loss, and he truly was one important to me… then surely he must feel sorrowful. I wish I could ease his suffering.

I miss him.

Dear diary,
Today I grew frustrated enough to dabble into agriculture. The kobolds and gnolls do not seem to know how to cook a meal, at least not one suited for a drow. Luckily, I had a supply of mushrooms from the Underdark stored away somewhere in my bag. I know from my time as a slave the proper way to plant and harvest them.

The locals have taken an interest in my farming, and I have taught some of them how to do it themselves. Apparently, the idea has never occurred to them that they can grow their own renewable supply of food. They seemed fascinated by the mushrooms, so I explained to them their origins in the Underdark and what little I know of their species.

I had to bullshit most of the information, though. I couldn't bring myself to tell such curious eyes that I really didn't know much, so I found myself lying. On the plantation, it wasn't my job to know things. It was only my job to plant and harvest. And make deliveries, too, I think.

I really liked delivering. I'm not sure why. I recall having to go to the surface often, and visiting with high elves. I have no idea what enjoyment I could possibly have found in that.

Dear diary,
Things are growing uneasy around here. Dhudgrir is not in a safe location. Tensions are growing on the plains.

I will write you back if anything further develops.

Dear diary,
War broke out in Dhudgrir. It was quite pitiful, to observe the small creatures fighting to the death. Once, I had thought them cute. Now I can hardly think of them as anything other than savage beasts who tear out each other's throats.

I aided in the war, but that had the unfortunate side effect of the tensions of the plains shifting their focus to me. I have been protecting Dhudgrir as best I can, but my efforts are hardly making a difference, and I find myself narrowly avoiding attempts on my life on the daily now. Who knew such small creatures could harbor such hatred?

Unfortunately, I have had to move away from Dhudgrir. I provided the kobolds and gnolls with important knowledge about agriculture and medicine before leaving. I hope it will aid them in their survival.

I am now travelling the roads of Toril, in search of a safer temporary home. I will write you back when I have found one.

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